


The night Saruhiko saw red

by MisakillDatMonkey



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Also it's basically dirty smut covered with teeth rotting fluff, As in Misaki on TOP, Did I mentionned it was Mi-Saru, Established Relationship, I REPEAT THIS IS MISARU IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT JUST PASS, M/M, Post-Series, THIS IS MISARU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 17:23:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6575266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisakillDatMonkey/pseuds/MisakillDatMonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m going to punch you,” Yata warned him, looking up, his fist hanging in between them, in the very tiny space left.</p><p>“How cute!” Saruhiko drawled scornfully.</p><p>“Well if it’s the only way for me to touch you, I won’t mind!”</p><p>“Who said it’s the only way?” Saruhiko almost yelled, this time. And there was something in his voice. Something that sounded a bit like desperation, tension… Misaki knew him by heart, that was the only reason why he was able to hear it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The night Saruhiko saw red

**Author's Note:**

  * For [melonsflesh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/melonsflesh/gifts).



> Sorry for the tags lol but I'm tired of the hate I got about writing Misaru instead of Sarumi so this time no surprise. If you don't like it, just don't read it :)  
> Otherwise, I really hope you will enjoy this *-*
> 
> It's based on a prompt I received on Tumblr from Melonsflesh:  
> 4\. “Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?”
> 
> I truly got carried away and I hope it didn't end up too bad *o*  
> Lastly, I need to thank xladysaya for the awesome beta-reading!!

It was late when Misaki stopped his board in front of the Scepter 4 gates. He braced himself and breathed in and out slowly. It wasn’t that rare, now, for him to come here late at night. It didn’t happen too often either, but at least now he didn’t feel like a total enemy behind those lines. He still was a bit unsure and vigilant, but it got better as time passed. And it helped when it was a friendly face that greeted him.

HOMRA’s vanguard wasn’t particularly close to any of those blue guys, even though since the Slates had been destroyed, he had learnt to respect them more than he used to. It had been a year now, and things had changed a lot actually. Scepter 4 was still dealing with Strains, that wasn’t new. But Saruhiko and him reconciling, then moving in together again and… dating. _That_ was new. They’ve been dating for a bit less than half a year now.

Saruhiko didn’t live in the dorms of the mansion anymore though, but he still overworked himself too often. These nights, when Misaki’s shift was over early, or if he wasn’t working, he’d come and join Saruhiko here to walk him home. Not that he thought that his knives-holder and swordsman of a boyfriend couldn’t defend himself in case of problem… he didn’t. But it still didn’t change that it didn’t feel safe. They surprisingly didn’t live that far away from Scepter 4. It was a twenty minute long walk to the max. But Misaki was well aware anything could happen, late at night, in dark alleys and on empty streets. That’s the reason why he had started going to Scepter 4. Although, during the first month, he had only waited outside, in front of the gates, sometimes for an hour, in the cold. Saruhiko had enough of it at some point and had forced him to come inside at least, if he was going to be a creeper waiting for him.

Misaki had protested but lost eventually.

Fortunately, though, it had become more frequent that Andy Domyoji was the one sent to escort him inside. Saruhiko was chained to his desk anyway, and Misaki didn’t complain that the task was assigned to the blue red head. They actually got along pretty well. Andy was funny and as loud as he was.

Misaki was well aware that Saruhiko wasn’t as fan as he was himself of Andy but, again, Saruhiko wasn’t a big fan of the human kind in general. It just seemed that lately, the swordsman was more and more annoyed when Andy showed Yata his way. The last time, they had both gotten a rude “Is it Misaki who’s too stupid to find his way after so many times, or just Domyoji who’s being the usual idiot?” Misaki wasn’t sure what all that was about. The one time Akiyama had brought Yata in there, Saruhiko had said nothing and had just gestured at him to sit down.

“It’s a shame we’re not allowed to use a skateboard in here! We’d be so fast if we could just like… _wooosh_! All the way!” Andy was speaking enthusiastically, eyeing Yata’s board. The latter grinned and dropped the board on the marble floor. They were almost at the door they were aiming for; where Saruhiko was working; at the end of the corridor.

“Wanna try? Go on! I bet you blues can’t use that!” the proud vanguard argued smugly.

Andy’s eyes lit instantly as he looked all around. The place was empty. And the red head looked like it was Christmas or something, and yet, he was afraid to open the present.  

But he also clearly didn’t want to look like a coward or anything. That’s probably why he hopped on the board after several seconds of contemplation and, just like Domyoji had said: _wooosh_. He flew away.

And _CRACK_ crashed into the fucking door. A perfect face plant, in the sumptuous wooden panel, then Andy slid, slow motion style, and landed on his knees and face, ass in the air, the board trapped under him.

Yata was laughing so hard and loud and chocking while doing it, he almost missed the door opening. Actually, he would have missed it for good if it wasn’t for his gloomy-but like, gloomier than usual-boyfriend standing in the doorway.

And… yeah he totally looked like he was resort to lethal means – glaring _murderously_ at Domyoji, with so much disdain it was hurting, and playing with a… “Wow, knife,” Yata commented, not laughing anymore, his amber eyes widening with dread. He rushed to the door while Andy rolled away and tried to push himself on his feet again, massaging his sore jaw, then Yata pushed him aside as nicely as he could, kicking the board inside the room and, lastly, hurrying inside himself and dragging Saruhiko along with him. The door was shut with a soft click after that, and Misaki stayed very still, his back stiff against the panel.

He had his hands in his back, on the doorknob and the key and Yata turned it quickly after a few moments to lock them up. If Saruhiko was to explode and try to kill someone, he better had to keep it between the two of them.

And, indeed, Saruhiko didn’t seem too pleased. He looked furious, to say the least. Not a good time to kiss him hello, Misaki guessed. Instead, he tried a sheepish “Hi.”

“Some grownups have work to do, so _shut up_ ,” Saruhiko spat as his only answer and turned his back on Yata to return to his desk. Not exactly fair enough, but not totally un-merited either. It was so late, and Saruhiko probably only wanted to go home, so his usual tolerance to others being obnoxious, loud, and stupid was already so low… It couldn’t be good right now.

The red vanguard said nothing and walked slowly towards one of the very few armchairs along the wall under the high window. He could draw his portable console out and play (in silent mode, mind you) while he was waiting for Saruhiko to finish his work. But he totally changed his mind when he passed by his boyfriend, remarking how stiff he looked on his chair.

His back was so tensed, it was almost comical. It seemed like he was forced to stay very still against a plank. Only his hands on his keyboard were moving too, his arms paralyzed. It wasn’t good and it pained Misaki to see him like that.

He remembered nights Saruhiko had come home so exhausted and stiff he was stumbling in the entrance and almost collapsing. For times like those, it took hours, a warm bath, many cups of tea, and all of Misaki’s attention for Saruhiko to speak again and smile tiredly.

“Eh, Saruhiko,” he whispered softly to his back, not invading his space too much, but leaning into his boyfriend enough for him to feel his presence.

No response. Only the click-click of the keys smashed under the slender fingers. “How much time before you’re free?”

With this question, Misaki hoped his boyfriend would just relax a bit – realizing they would be home soon… It didn’t work. Instead, the gloomy swordsman stopped typing and turned his head slightly to glare at Misaki. “If you can’t wait in here just get out, Misaki! Why don’t you go and play with that great friend of yours!”

O-kay. That definitely wasn’t what he was hoping for. But if Yata had learnt something with Saruhiko, actually, it was some patience. “I’m fine here. I’m just eager to get you home and spend some time with my boyfriend and his long face,” he said as _gently_ as he could.

“If you have a problem with my face, look at Domyoji’s. He’s so flawless even after encountering horses and doors,” Saruhiko attacked again, looking back at his monitor the same way he would have if he was going to destroy it.

Yata frowned. “The fuck are you talking about? If you miss him so much, why don’t you ask him to work here with you?” he said, getting annoyed at his really difficult boyfriend.

At that, he got a disdainful gasp and, then, Saruhiko was typing again on the keyboard. So hard it almost broke in two. “I don’t want him here either. I just want to be with you so get used to it, jerk. We’re stuck together until you’re done with your work and it’s only you and me,” Yata added heatedly. After that, he nuzzled Saruhiko’s cheek so briefly and harshly it was more like he was trying to punch him with his nose, and then he straightened himself behind the dark haired man.

Yata’s hands caught the back of the chair and he looked down at his boyfriend’s tensed body. Though, after that last comment, Saruhiko had seemed to relax a bit. And, indeed… “Twenty minutes,” Saruhiko mumbled after some seconds.

“Thanks for telling me, grumpy,” the skater said, fondly this time.

“I still don’t need an idiot to disturb me, though.”

 _That_ was unfair now. And twenty minutes were long when you couldn’t disturb your boyfriend. But maybe he could help him? He was so tense… Yata wanted to touch the muscles he guessed were taunt under the blue uniform, so close to him…

“Do you… Well—” he suddenly started, on an impulse. Then he paused and bit his tongue. Yata was being silly, he knew that, but he had come all the way here to be the gentleman he was, walking his boyfriend home and everything and all he got in return were rude comebacks and not even a kiss. They hadn’t even touched. Saruhiko was probably suffering as much as he was – or Yata told himself so anyway. There was probably a way he could make this more enjoyable for them both. “I mean… I could give you a massage?”

Again, Saruhiko stopped hitting the keyboard like a madman. “I didn’t catch that, Misaki,” he said, and his voice sounded very dangerous. Yet, Misaki was bold enough to bring his hands to his boyfriend’s shoulder, give a gentle pressure and repeat: “A massage. You’re so stiff you’re going to take twice the time to type that shit down. I’m just—”

Slowly, and still sitting on the chair, Saruhiko turned to almost face Yata. His expression was impossible to read. But it couldn’t be something good. “You don’t even kiss me _hi_ and now you want to give me a massage in my office. I knew you were stupid but I didn’t realize you were also a weirdo, Misaki.”

That earned him a jab in the chest. The red vanguard frowned again, hard. “The fucking kettle calling the pot white.”

“Black.”

“Fuck you Saru! I couldn’t kiss you when all you were doing was talking about Domyoji!” he said, infuriated.

This time, Saruhiko jumped to his feet, the chair fell over but neither of them noticed it. They looked like two furious cats, all claws out, ready to jump at each other’s throats. “Get out,” Saruhiko said coldly. “He’s probably waiting for you outside.”

“I’m going to punch you,” Yata warned him, looking up, his fist hanging in between them, in the very tiny space left.

“How cute!” Saruhiko drawled scornfully.

“Well if it’s the only way for me to touch you, I won’t mind!”

“Who said it’s the only way?” Saruhiko almost yelled, this time. And there was something in his voice. Something that sounded a bit like desperation, tension… Misaki knew him by heart, that was the only reason why he was able to hear it.

Suddenly gripping the wild collar of the swordsman, Misaki brought him down forcefully and crashed their lips together. _There_.

When he released him, he was almost surprised their lips weren’t bruised. Saruhiko looked even more surprised than usual. Although, that helped the red vanguard to think more clearly. “Alright. We done now? Or you’re going to complain more, lose more time and be an even bigger jerk to me?”

For a second, Yata thought Saruhiko was going to strangle him. But then, he frowned. “No. We’re not done.”

The next moment, their mouths collided again, except this time, Saruhiko bit him viciously. Yata yelped but didn’t step back. If Saruhiko wanted to fight, fine. Fucking fine.

He answered all the more fiercely, tongue and teeth out, and they kissed like that for some time, forcefully and heatedly. When they drew away, out of breath, with spit on their chins and lips so swollen maybe they were going to be bruised the next morning.

Yata thought at least they were done now. That Saruhiko would be appeased – as odd as it was – but… he was startled when the taller man suddenly caught him in an embrace and held him tight. _That_ was definitely odd. Saruhiko was clingy when they were alone at home or when something was wrong. When he felt insecure, for example.

And they weren’t home.

“Saruhiko?” Yata asked, concerned.

“Misaki is mine. We’re not done and you’re only mine,” Saruhiko mumbled in his red hair.

When the vanguard rolled his eyes, it was with some fondness. “Of course we’re not done dumbass,” he said. “We’re— _umphSaru_!”

The swordsman had just pushed him back, paradoxically pulling on his clothes, refusing to let him go, until Yata found himself pushed down onto an armchair. Yata’s mouth opened in a perfect ‘O’ and was filled with more tongue just a second after, and then Saruhiko was straddling his thighs and kissing him anew. His boyfriend wasn’t only clingy anymore, he was demanding and needy. What had really triggered that was a mystery to Yata. They’d had sex about three days ago – and yes, since the moment they had started dating, they had had sex more frequently than that, but they weren’t desperate either. They slept in the same bed every night, even when they were too exhausted to have sex.

Also, he was well aware the door was locked, since he had made sure of it, but they still were at Saruhiko’s workplace and his boyfriend seemed to have forgotten that detail. “C’mon Saru… We can have plen—plenty of that at h—home.”

Uttering this sentence had been terribly difficult. If there was something Yata never wanted to see stopped, it was when Saruhiko was the one taking the lead, acting that needy and horny, even. But someone had to stay sharp, realistic. It was just unbelievable that the person was Yata for once.

“No one can see,” Saruhiko answered, kissing a last time the redhead’s lips to get up a second. He had his hands on the arms of the chairs, leaning over Yata with eyes clouded with desire and… desperation. Yata blushed from the roots of his hair to the tip of his toes just by that look.

“Cameras?” he whispered, panting. Since _when_ was he panting anyway?

“Not here.” Saruhiko dropped on his knees and Yata’s eyes searched frantically for any cameras but Saruhiko was right. None were aimed toward the armchair. Thus, they didn’t record the deft hands opening his fly nor Yata jumping out of his skin and shrinking on himself, almost disappearing into the chair.

“What are you even doing!” the skater asked in disbelief. He sounded shocked and his voice was incredibly high-pitched, but who cared. “Are you out of your mind?! Saruhiko!” His hands caught his boyfriend’s wrists just before he could _take him out_. They both froze and the blue clansman looked up with a hungry expression. “What if the other is still out there and…”

At that, Saruhiko’s wrists jerked violently away and the hungry look turned dark and ferocious. “I knew it,” he spat, and then got up.

He turned away and returned to his desk but Yata didn’t miss the hurt expression on his face and his stomach twisted painfully. Now he started to understand. So he jumped to his feet too and hurried after Saruhiko. Completely forgetting in the process that no belt and no fly kept his shorts around his waist. They pooled around his feet immediately and he totally tripped over them miserably in a loud _thump_ and a low groan when his head met the floor.

Dammit, this night was completely messed up. Everything that happened had turned wrong and the situation couldn’t get worse now. Or at least, it shouldn’t have but he dated Saruhiko and so….he allowed himself a glance full of dismay. Fuck his life.

Yata pulled himself together, though, and his shorts back up the best he could, sitting on the floor away from the cameras. Now he had gathered all the pieces together and knew what was so wrong, there was no way he was letting the night end so tragically.

“Listen, jerk. If you’re jealous, just say so or else you can walk yourself home, see if that cools your head down a bit, yeah?” Yata attacked from the floor, not ashamed a second.

Saruhiko hadn’t reached his chair yet, and turned again to give him a brief distraught look before trying to appear neutral again. At least, he tried to look neutral and unfazed and that he didn’t care about what the redhead had just said but Yata knew him too much. He had seen the expression clearly before Saruhiko had managed to hide it underneath his eternal mask of coolness. He was right.

“Jealous of what, exactly?” the swordsman dared to drawl. “Your grace? Nice landing, though. It matched Domy—”

“FUCK ME I KNEW IT!” Yata exclaimed, bouncing on his feet in triumph, a hand gripping his waistband so his shorts wouldn’t drop to the floor again. “You bastard! You jealous bastard! What d’you think you’re doing?”

There was a silence following that, then a click of tongue, and Saruhiko eventually folded his arms on his chest and hunched heavily. Yata had seen right through him and he knew it, he couldn’t hide it anymore. So, naturally, after the plain lie and the bad faith, Saruhiko went for the gloomy and sharp façade. “I don’t know? I’m working my ass off here while you spend some quality time with the other idiot? You two get along so well,” he mumbled.

Yata couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and, yes, he was smiling like he never had before. Saruhiko was jealous, he was right about something concerning his boyfriend… Yes, the night went wrong at some point, but it wasn’t all for the worst.

“And where am I right now? With him or with you, dumbass?”

“I don’t see what it proves,” Saruhiko said, still avoiding the redhead’s eyes.

Goddammit, Saruhiko was so dense! Yata had enough. He strode toward him and with his free hand, caught his boyfriend’s forearm in a death-strong grip. He was determined to pass beyond that thick skull.

“But _I_ see! Who would come all the way here in the middle of the night and stay in a room with a jerk that’s trying to fucking get rid of them by all means necessary, eh? I think if someone was to do that, that person would be seriously stupid! That or incredibly in love with that jerk.”

Saruhiko looked at him, _finally_ , and there was a faint blush on his cheekbones that felt like triumph to Yata. “Right, you know what I mean, Saruhiko! And guess what! I happen to be both. Stupid, and in love with a jerk. And you’re complicated and fussy enough to get all my attention. There’s no fucking room for anyone else!”

Saruhiko looked dumbstruck. Yata took the lead, looking towards the armchair and pulling on his bf’s sleeve. They had worked on many insecurities already since they had gotten back together. There wasn’t one more that would scare Yata away. He was patient and, just like he had said, he loved Saruhiko too much.

“A hundred points,” Saruhiko muttered under his breath. He was mortified, but tried to fight it now that Yata had put so much effort in and the redhead was glad for it.

“Mmh—now get down,” Yata pleaded, pulling on the sleeve again.

He was heard, and Saruhiko sat back in his previous place, asking silently for permission. His eyes were searching, as if he was afraid he had pushed things too far. The skater smiled fondly, chocking suspiciously on the lump forming in his throat. He felt dizzy. “You were trying to make a point, right? I’m only yours, or something?” he encouraged the swordsman gently, stroking Saruhiko’s hips with both hands through his clothes.

Saruhiko’s eyes darkened again, both with want and desperation. “Not _something_ ,” he growled, outraged, and it sounded animalistic. He had that predatory expression again. The temperature of the room seemed to increase. Or maybe it was Yata’s blood boiling in his veins.

He was sure of one thing though, he was going to try to save himself with that long, hot and searing kiss they shared.

It wasn’t long before they both were too worked up and into it and Saruhiko broke the kiss again, reclaiming his spot between the redhead’s legs and pulling his shorts to mid-thigh again. It was enough to make Yata remember where they were, and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to interrupt things.

“There’s no cameras, but they still can hear you,” he heard Saruhiko say from under his line of sight and when he dared to look down, Yata knew he had make a mistake.

Saruhiko was sort of kneeling between his legs, his elbows resting on the redhead’s thighs as his hands resumed their previous action: in other words, working on his boxer briefs to pull him out.

Yata’s cock was already half-hard from the heated kisses and argument – yes, that had definitely helped because knowing Saruhiko was jealous was somehow both endearing and sexy – and he hissed involuntarily when his boyfriend eventually touched him.

Yata couldn’t say he had ever seen Saruhiko run to the table when he called him for lunch or supper. It had never happened. Ever. The solution to that problem appeared clearly just now. Yata simply needed to put more cock into his cooking.

That thought aside, the skater couldn’t take his eyes off the starving expression on the beautiful face hovering above him. Again, his eyes shifted all over the place, scanning every corner of the room searching for a camera or something and… “Fuck!” he exclaimed when Saruhiko decided to deep-throat him without a warning. And without preparation.

As it was to be expected, the blue clansman choked on his boyfriend’s length because for as skilled as he was at _that_ , he had over did it. The next few seconds resulted in something particularly odd, with one of Yata’s hand patting Saruhiko’s head to smooth him, and the other gripping the dark hair hard. Because, _yes_ , Saruhiko hadn’t pulled entirely away yet.

Yata could feel Saruhiko breathing hard to calm down but it didn’t help. When the awkward moment passed, the swordsman got back to his previous action and the redhead hissed once more. A hot and wet tongue ran from the base of his cock to the tip and he muffled a gasp when Saruhiko sucked on the tip with insistence. After that, it was a succession of successful ministrations eliciting moans over moans, each growing louder and louder than the previous. His boyfriend knew him too well, every little thing that made him squeal, squirm and turn into a mess into his hands… between his skillful lips.

When a particularly violent shudder rippled through Yata’s body, Saruhiko looked up and managed to smirk despite the cock down his throat. “Saruhiko,” Yata muttered, his throat dry as sandpaper. That latter sucked one last time on the length, then pulled back completely, wiping at his gleaming chin with the back of his hand.

The skater’s head lolled backward, as he closed his eyes and tried to regain some composure, his chest heaving harshly. He hadn’t realized he had been gripping the arms of the chair so hard and now he felt his numb fingers, Yata was glad he hadn’t been gripping his boyfriend’s hair instead.

“W—wow,” he tried to even his breathing, not exactly successfully and cracked an eye open when he heard Saruhiko moving before him. The tension that had pooled at the pit of his lower belly wouldn’t disappear and Yata couldn’t help but wonder why that delicious treatment had stopped.

He was answered almost immediately. He had just enough time to register that Saruhiko had lowered his own pair of trousers and that the taller was turning away and sitting back. Directly in Yata’s lap. On Yata’s cock, just like that, raw. “Oi! What the fffffff—!” The swear word was cut off, lost in a long and out of breath hiss, and covered by a low and as long whine. The incredibly tight and hot sensation was near uncomfortable and made the skater’s head spin but he did his best to keep a clear head.

“What is wrong with you!” he blurted out, half in awe, half angry at Saruhiko. His arms went around his trembling boyfriend, circling his thin body, hands resting on the dark haired man’s stomach. 

 They never did it this way. Almost at least. The few times they had gone raw were desperate times when they had nothing to use to prepare and they couldn’t wait – usually after a huge fight or a very emotional moment. It occurred to Yata that Saruhiko’s little act of jealousy might have been more important that it seemed, in the end.

A hand went to cover his own on Saruhiko’s stomach, squeezing them hard. “Saruhiko, t—talk to me,” Yata said, worried now.

He couldn’t bring himself to move. He was so sure he would hurt him if he did… And for as much as he was excited, his own arousal didn’t matter in the slightest at that moment. The redhead only wanted to make sure his lover was feeling well. And he couldn’t possibly be alright, acting like that on an impulse. Yata was the hot headed one, they both knew it. “Saruhiko, what is it?” Yata leant into his boyfriend’s back, his head resting between his shoulder blades, at the back of the black uniform vest. Saruhiko had got ridden of his coat at some point.

“I’m okay,” a raspy voice answered him and Saruhiko exhaled heavily. Yata bit his lips, his hands gliding over the dark haired man’s waist.

“You’re in pain! This is stupid! Enough,” he said, trying to push him slowly but Saruhiko took his hands away from his hips, bringing them back around his chest and pressing them hard against his body. The redhead realized Saruhiko was slowly shaking his head.

“I’m okay,” he repeated firmly, though his abdomen was trembling under Yata’s touch. “I want it. Misaki.”

These words alone were enough to make the skater’s cock twitch and he gritted his teeth. He nodded slightly against his boyfriend’s back and closed his eyes. He couldn’t believe it was happening. “When you’re ready then,” Yata breathed out, feeling dizzy again.

In response, Saruhiko held his hands closer against his body, intertwining their fingers tightly. Yata could only return the pressure, feeling his boyfriend clenching around him and threatening his sanity. Almost a whole minute passed before Saruhiko pushed himself up slightly, immediately sinking down again on the skater’s length. “Are you ok?” Yata couldn’t help but ask in a gasp. His body was burning and he could feel a thin layer of sweat forming on his forehead.

“If I break it’ll be your fault,” Saruhiko answered through his teeth.

At that, Yata chuckled, the sound muffled in the vest, finally relaxing. “It’s yours,” he said.

“What—what are you? Five?” Saruhiko drawled, obviously trying to sound like he wasn’t being fucked raw. Then he gave another tentative roll of the hips and, this time, it tore a moan out of Yata’s mouth.

“Shh!”

“Sorry,” the skater mumbled against his boyfriend’s clothes, biting his lips instantly. His boyfriend rolled his hips again, less and less hesitantly. The stimulation was almost too powerful already, and it had nothing to do with the magic worked by the swordsman’s mouth.

After a couple of other times, Saruhiko seemed to find a rhythm that wasn’t hurting him anymore because there wasn’t any more hesitation. When Yata thrusted up shyly, Saruhiko encouraged him by meeting the thrust frantically. This time, it was too much. Yata untangled a hand from his boyfriend’s grip and snuck into the vest and shirt bellow, popping two buttons open in the process, and his heart raced even faster when he eventually touched some of that smooth and pale skin. “Fuck,” he swore again, falling into Saruhiko’s rhythm, meeting each and every thrust in earnest.

His other hand soon glided over the flat stomach and reached between his boyfriend’s legs. He gasped when his fingers circled the other’s length. Saying that Saruhiko was turned on was more than an understatement. Running his thumb over the hot tip, he spread the precum over it and gave a tentative stroke. Saruhiko suppressed a moan, Yata felt it vibrate through his whole body and he couldn’t help but bite into the shoulder blade in front of him.

The skater’s hand began to pump him faster, in sync with Saruhiko’s motions, their hips connecting harder and harder every second passing by. They turned into a total mess of moans, panting soundly, when they both neared their climax.

Yata just missed one thing. He wanted to see him. He wanted to see his boyfriend’s deep, icy blue eyes. He wanted to kiss him… And he knew if they had to stop right now to take some stupid boots and pants off, both would be terribly frustrated. He had to do something though.

Yata was almost off the edge when he found the force to push Saruhiko off him a second. He got a panicked groan in returned but he was fast enough. Lowering Saruhiko’s pants enough, he flipped him in the armchair and half crawling onto it himself. He was able to reclaim his place, his arms hooked under the dark haired man’s legs. He moved them so one was over his shoulder and he leant forward. The next second, the redhead drove in, pounding his boyfriend into the armchair, kissing him heatedly in the meantime. It cut off the moan provoked by the new angle when Yata thrusted inside Saruhiko hilt deep and hit his sweet spot.

From that moment, it took only another long, passionate, and loving kiss for them to come. A heavy shudder tore Yata’s body, matching Saruhiko’s spams.

The skater looked up to meet the half-lidded blue eyes. His boyfriend looked like a total disheveled mess and he seemed to be high on something potentially too strong for him. It was totally endearing and Yata couldn’t help but give him a last long and wet kiss. He felt so sated, and in love…

But it had to end and he started to slide back, out of his boyfriend but… “No! Misaki what are you doing!” Saruhiko suddenly yelped, his mind visibly clearer now.

“What do you mean?” the skater asked, stilling uncomfortably, half kneeling on the armchair, half on the floor already and still… well…

“You can’t do that, there will be that stuff all over the chair!” Saruhiko explained with some annoyed urgency.

“All over—what? Saruhiko you’re not for real, are you? Who fucking went raw on this!?” Yata countered, surprised enough not to bother with the embarrassment.

“I was trying to make a point, now you have to act on it,” the dark haired man drawled.

“Whaaaa—Saru! That’s not how it works!” the other exclaimed, right outraged. “Put your goddamn pants back up and let’s go home!”

“It’s fucking gross!”

“Well you’re the smart one, you should’ve thought about it!” Seriously, and anyway… “This conversation is too awkward!” Yata groaned and he pulled out entirely, pulling his pants on in a flash once he got to his feet – blushing to the tip of his ears.

Saruhiko jumped out of the armchair too, pulling his own pants back on, making a face at the gross feeling. “Fucking disgusting.”

“You’re telling me, genius!”

Silence fell over them and it took another minute for Saruhiko to put all his clothes back on correctly, his shirt ruined with his own mess. The look on his face as he realized the damages didn’t displease Yata in the slightest though, and even if he was feeling sticky and gross himself, he took a minute to rush over to him and force Saruhiko into a tight embrace. “Eh! It’s ok. We’ll just hurry to go home and then we can have a hot shower, ok?” He pushed himself on his toes to kiss the corner of his boyfriend’s lips, blushing again. “I didn’t hate it ok? Actually, it was totally worth it. You were—you were fucking hot. That was hot.” Admitting it made him blush even harder but it worked; Saruhiko averted his eyes, clicked his tongue and stopped fussing over his clothes.

“Mmh.”

He brushed past the redhead and grabbed his coat, shrugging it on quickly and closing it in a fashion that was totally foreign to him but hid most of their sinful previous action. Then he turned toward Yata and gnawed at his lip. “I didn’t hate it either,” he said. “Actually… point made,” he added, faintly blushing in his turn.

Yata’s heartbeat sped up maddeningly. A wide grin spread all over his face. “You bet! Let’s go home!” Jumping near him, he took the swordsman’s hand and drove him to the door, grabbing his board on the way.

Bracing himself on the tip of his toes again, the skater pecked his boyfriend’s mouth and unlocked the door with a huge smile.

Of course, they met Domyoji at the end of the corridor and of course, Saruhiko barked orders at him, including taking care of the end of the report he had been correcting for him when Yata had found him – and threatening him with a sharp argument (aka a knife or two or twelve) if he found the littlest doodle in it the next day. Yata was happy to see him only slightly flinch when he greeted the other redhead with a warm goodbye and he made sure later that night to reassure his jealous boyfriend once again. And it started with a few words and…may have turned into a real massage that still ended up being more lewd than planned but, eh! Sometimes, that couldn’t be helped and if Saruhiko needed that kind of reassurance, maybe they didn’t have to dwell too much on long-ass explanations and speeches. There were so many more ways to show him how much he actually loved him.


End file.
